Once.

For one time, I would like to remember. Sometimes remembering can be terrible, but often it is filled with nostalgia, with passion, with contentment. One can look back at memories and elaborate on how they are pleased with what happened, because they gained something from it, whether it be from a lesson, or from a single moment, whether simple or complicated. I have become so accustomed to forgetting, to letting go, to moving on. It's okay that I dated him when I barely liked him at all, I can forget about it. I can move on and let go, because I didn't get attached. Or at least I can lie to myself about it convincingly enough, for long enough. It's okay that I let him get the best of me, because the best wasn't even really that great. I can forget. I'll live. It's fine that he doesn't like me, don't worry, I can move on. I can let go, and I can forget how I felt, how I clung to his sweater in hopes that maybe something would happen, how I hung off every word, trying to read as much meaning into it as possible. But I can let go. I can forget. I can move on.
And I don't. Letting go is possible, but forgetting really isn't, because things such as these occur far too frequently. I can move on, but really, how far am I moving, and in which direction? In retrospect, I might even be back where I started: scared, and not trying. For once, I want to remember a lovely ex boyfriend. An ex boyfriend that would bring me flowers, which were not roses, and my favorite type of coffee. Not the Tim Hortons shit that tastes like battery acid and nicotine, stagnating in a reddish plastic cup. If only I could remember multiple males courting for my attention, making me happy in a way that would make ME happy, not being degrading in a way that would make them happy. But I look back, and it's not like that. It's not like that at all.
I dated a bunch of people I didn't like because I was lonely, or felt sorry. It didn't get me many places, except to a place where I know I shouldn't be doing stupid shit like that. But that doesn't help me move forward.
I am so, so, so, scared. Please somebody help me, in a way that actually makes sense in my difficult, peculiar, unusual mind.

ugh.

Normally I don't write such angsty little directionless rants, but I'm mad, and I'm depressed, and I'm annoyed too, which makes for someone/something not so very happy.
It's really interesting when your entire life is going pretty darn good minus a few little things, and then something comes up, and fucks it up, and it's your fault. It's my fault for liking this person. I let myself do it, and now I'm depressed because I won't do anything pertaining to making a move or such nonsense, therefore I get to accept they don't feel the same and move on. Accept they don't feel the same, and move on. Accept they don't feel the same, and move on. What a disgusting, shitty little sentence. So why does it keep popping up? Oh right, because it keeps happening. Over, and over, and then over again. For some reason, I must have really horrible taste in people, as they just never seem to like me back. I am not honestly that bad of a person. I've fixed my negativity. I'm not hideous. I'm smart. I can listen, and I can talk, and I can be funny too, sometimes in multiple ways. So honestly, what the fuck? I am sick of this. Oh wait, that's a fucking understatement. I am sick of it happening not once, or twice, but over and over again. And because I'm so sick of it, I end up settling for less, which is also my fault, and then I get treated like shit. And then it gets worse, and I feel worse about myself, and I am back on the same stupid low-self esteem rollercoaster, and then it repeats. Some stupid 18 visions song is repeating in my head now--- obsession/desire/depression. Obsession/desire/depression. They never wanted me.... Sounds familiar, does it not? I am so goddamn sick of being stuck in this depressive black hole. And I am so sick of not being able to/just not doing anything about it. I keep forgetting my meds too, which is double not cool, because then the mood swings just get worse. Anyway, i'm going to write this, and no one important is going to read it,but I'm STILL waiting for the day when the smart girl beats the pretty girl. I better sit back and put my feet up.
Oh yeah, and maybe make a goddamn latte.

eleven fifty two ponderings

Some days, I really do think I want him staplegunned right to my side all of the time. I know I don't, but somehow it might be comforting.
Why is it so hard to let loose with how one actually feels?
Why can't I say anything?

I like music.

Okay, I'm original.
Not.
So I've decided to make a list of bands, randomly, and because I feel like it.



Bright Eyes. Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton. Tegan and Sara. Death Cab for Cutie. Margot and the Nuclear So & Sos. Stars. Alexisonfire. Coldplay. Straylight Run. Rachael Yamagata. Paramore. City and Colour. Rise Against. Brand New. Simon and Garfunkel. The Postal Service. Imogen Heap. The Spill Canvas. Cat Power. Death From Above 1979 (RIP :( ). Bush. She Wants Revenge. Something Corporate. Jack's Mannequin. Ladytron. Hole. Tilly and the Wall. Snow Patrol. Frou Frou. Eisley. Rilo Kiley. The Goo Goo Dolls. Maria Taylor. Senses Fail (their older stuff). Weezer.

English Project

Dear Life, and World, and Everything Left,

I am unsure of who will find this, so let me tell you a small bit about myself. I do not believe it is possible to encapsulate one's entire life in a note, but I must try. I am a 26 year old lawyer. My successful practice is located downtown in this city, slightly left of the intersection to 4th and 27th. It is a tall brown building with few windows, when I look out the one facing East, I can see the river valley, and to the West, I can see the downtown core, overflowing with buildings and factories. When you write notes like these, I believe you are supposed to get to the point quickly: but do I have one? I am dying by my own hand because I believe I have nothing left. All the others I know fail to see this. How can a successful lawyer want to die so badly? Apparently, those others do not know me very well. I have struggled with depression for the last ten years, but have kept it hidden masterfully. The small blue pills I took on my coffee breaks (few and far between) were not for the headaches I frequently claimed to get because of work related stress. They were for my [enter vocab] depression. Apparently I hid it well, but you were all too blind to see it. However, this is not a letter of blame, for I cannot blame anyone but myself. Too often in the world, people try to blame others for their own misfortune. My favorite author, Oscar Wilde, said it beautifully: "There is a luxury in self reproach. When we blame others, we feel that no one else has the right to blame us." Everyone has the right to blame me for this terrible act, yet I have no right to blame them.
However, we are back to the topic of why I wish to die. In my entire life, I have accomplished many things. Attending an Ivy League school at the age of 18, graduating with a 4.0 GPA, and coming from a happy family, amongst others. However, I feel unsatisfied, compared to my colleagues and friends. They are the ones with husbands or wives, and children. They are the ones that go home to their families after work, capable of feeling love, and affection. They exist outside of their jobs, they are confident souls that are not afraid to take risks. I am not them. I lack confidence on a large scale basis, and I feel incapable of love and affection. When I was a teenager, I had experience with such things. However, they failed each and every time, for because I could not love myself, I was incapable of loving another. This lack of affection has followed me everywhere I go. As I walk to work in the morning, I feel pangs of jealousy and despair every time I see a couple. They have succeeded, so why can't I? I can climb my way to the top of the ladder at the office, with the number one record in the city, and I am incapable of love. This is to be my downfall.
To those who attempted love with me, I am sorry. I am sorry for hurting you, for being incapable, for lowering your confidence and making you feel inferior. I am a grown man, yet I am crying writing this. The great philosopher David Hume once said that "[he] believed that no man ever threw away life while it was worth keeping." I am strongly in agreement with this statement. I am "throwing away" my life (do we really wish to call it that?) for it is really not worth keeping. I may be intelligent, I may hold records in my profession, however these things do not make me happy. I despise myself, and there is nothing that anyone, including myself, can do to change that. With this, I give my final farewell.

Your words.

"I'm sorry for drinking so much, Rachel, I know it matters to you."

Sigh.

:'(

The same song line is playing in my head over and over:

Rather give the world away, than wake up lonely.
Rather give the world away, than wake up lonely.
Rather give the world away, than wake up lonely.......

Does everyone in our stupid society have such a terrible fear of abandonment that they cannot live without other people? I think so. Fears of abandonment, however, come in varying degrees. I am so scared to lose him that I think I am worrying way too much and trying to hold on tighter than I should.

Someone once made an analogy about a butterfly.
It's like love, or like, in this case I suppose. If you let it have too much freedom, it flies off, if you hold it too tight, you crush it. I am so terrible at comfortable mediums.

Am I screwed for the rest of my life?
No, am I really.....?
Fuck, I probably shouldn't have drank that much, or smoked that much weed last night.
I feel so....foggy....